


the top of the big night sky

by championstunic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Extended Metaphors, M/M, Maybe a little OOC, Pining, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25547005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championstunic/pseuds/championstunic
Summary: Sachirou pieced it all together slowly, along with the way that his heartbeat quickened every time Kourai’s eyes looked into his own and how he couldn’t stop smiling, even when Kourai yelled at him or went off on one of his tangents. He was in love with the boy who shone brightly, his glow traveling lightyears just to reach Sachirou.Sachirou, whose own light had burnt out so long ago that he almost couldn’t bring himself to look at Kourai with unshielded eyes.Or: Kourai is a star, and Sachirou is stuck in his orbit.
Relationships: Hirugami Sachirou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	the top of the big night sky

**Author's Note:**

> hey there!! i wrote this purely on impulse because i loved the mitski lyric!! enjoy?!

Sachirou watched Kourai for a long time. For years, he observed him, following his growth firsthand as he transformed from a mere white dwarf into a big, blue supergiant right before his eyes. Sachirou used to be scared to reach out to him — to be anything other than a mere stargazer — because he knew he’d end up getting burnt after taking hold of him. He was just a boy, powerless against a mass almost ten times hotter than the sun.

That’s why, when Sachirou finally managed to grab him at the end of middle school, he held onto him tightly and refused to let go. It almost made Sachirou laugh sometimes, how desperate he was to keep Kourai when Kourai was the one who taught him how to disconnect. It was always different when it came to Kourai, though. He wasn’t like volleyball or Sachirou’s unforgiving hands or the responsibility of carrying all his teammates’ expectations. Sachirou  _ liked _ Kourai. He enjoyed the time he spent with him, even if it was when they were doing something as tedious as hours-long serving practice or countless laps of diving drills. Seeing the way Kourai evolved was enough to keep Sachirou engaged.

Eventually, there was a day when Sachirou realized that he’d long since crossed the line of spectator and observer. He had become an active participant in Kourai’s growth, and it wasn’t long after that when Sachirou learned what it felt like to be in love. It was the late nights in the school gym, Sachirou alone with only Kourai and the volleyball net, and Sachirou noticing, to his surprise, there was nowhere else he’d rather be. It was the lunchtime convenience store runs, and the armfuls of Kappa Ebisen that he actually didn’t mind carrying, despite what he said to Kourai to rile him up. It was the way that Kourai’s entire face lit up like the night sky in the Nagano countryside when he found a new stupid volleyball t-shirt he wanted to buy. It was the fact that, somehow, Kourai always knew the right thing to say to Sachirou, without any judgement or reservation, as Sachirou found himself straying further and further away from the path that had been laid out for him since he was little.

Sachirou pieced it all together slowly, along with the way that his heartbeat quickened every time Kourai’s eyes looked into his own and how he couldn’t stop smiling, even when Kourai yelled at him or went off on one of his tangents. He was in love with the boy who shone brightly, his glow traveling lightyears just to reach Sachirou. 

Sachirou, whose own light had burnt out so long ago that he almost couldn’t bring himself to look at Kourai with unshielded eyes.

This was one thing that Sachirou never told Kourai; the one thing he never sought his advice on. He kept his love to himself for so long that, sometimes, he forgot about it. He forgot about it until Kourai grinned at him, or laughed, or leapt far beyond Sachirou’s expectations all over again. For a while, Sachirou loved Kourai more than anything; at least, until Sachirou began to find other things that he loved, too, like animals and helping people. Still, he knew that, without Kourai, he never would’ve had the opportunity or courage to discover love in other places. 

Sachirou knew he couldn’t keep his feelings about Kourai to himself forever. He hated keeping things from Kourai, and Kourai hated it when he didn’t tell him the whole truth. Sachirou knew that Kourai probably didn’t reciprocate his feelings, but he still had to come clean. He just didn’t want to confess prematurely, in a way that would ruin their team and leave him floating for the rest of high school, out of orbit. He also didn’t want to pressure Kourai into staying by his side. Kourai had so much ahead of him, beyond a bright, narrow path. Sachirou knew he couldn’t follow without tripping and falling over the edge.

So, Sachirou decided that the best time to confess to Kourai would be when he knew they were finally going their separate ways. It had become a great, huge love that threatened to bubble up and burst out of him at every seam, but the confession itself was nothing grand. There was no big, romantic gesture. No kiss in the rain or fireworks in the night sky. It was simply two boys, freshly graduated from high school, yet still so small and immature, silhouetted against the setting sun. The horizon was beautiful, pink clouds peeking out over the darkened Nagano mountains and orange light washing over the nearby greenery, yet Sachirou couldn’t tear his eyes away from Kourai. He was the only star that mattered in that moment.

Kourai looked back at him, his eyes as wide and expressive as always; all his emotions painted on his face in bold strokes for everyone to see. He was confused, and unsure how to react. Sachirou didn’t know what he wanted to hear, either.

“It’s fine if you don’t have anything to say,” Sachirou told him. “It’s fine, even, if things aren’t okay between us anymore. I’ll get over that. I just thought that you deserve to know how I feel, before I lost the chance to tell you. I hope you find success, Kourai-kun. You deserve it.”

Without another word, Sachirou turned his back on Kourai; a gesture he’d never been able to bring himself to make before. He began walking away, not even wanting to give Kourai the chance to reject him or to process what he’d said quickly enough to be disgusted. Before he could go far, though, he heard Kourai speak for what he thought might be the last time. Sachirou froze, not daring to turn around. The sun was almost done setting, and he knew Kourai always shone brighter in the dark.

“Have you always been this selfish, Sachirou?” His voice cracked, and it broke Sachirou’s heart. “You can’t just say that to me and then walk away.”

Sachirou simply shook his head in apology and continued walking. It was too dangerous to return to him; to become attached all over again. He had to let go. 

_ Sorry, Kourai-kun _ _,_ Sachirou thought.  _ If I stay and let you say anything else, I don’t think I’ll be able to take it. You burn too hot for me not to try to reach out and grab you. If I hang around any longer I'll be burned to dust. _

Sachirou kept moving forward and didn’t look back, just like Kourai had taught him.

Still, he continued to watch Kourai as he transformed into something even greater than what Sachirou had ever imagined, only now he watched from far away. A distance safe enough so that his eyes wouldn’t sting and his fingertips wouldn’t tingle from second-hand heat. A distance from which he would no longer be tempted to reach out and grab him by the arm, to hold him close and engulf himself in Kourai’s warmth. Sachirou settled for the coldness of being alone, with only the memories of Kourai’s influence to serve as a thin blanket of lost comfort. 

Occasionally, though, Sachirou would be treated to some passing waves of heat. A story about Kourai as told by his brother at the dinner table on New Year’s. Channel surfing after a long day of classes and pausing for a moment too long on a rerun of one of Kourai’s volleyball matches. Scrolling through old messages and not letting himself delete any of Kourai’s emails due to the guilt of nostalgia. None of this heat lasted very long, though, and Sachirou never let his mind linger on the way he wanted to bask in it for just a few more seconds.

Sachirou found warmth in other places. He found warmth in his dog’s fur when she excitedly woke him up early on mornings he should have been sleeping in. He found warmth in playing volleyball for fun with his brother and sister on weekends when he wasn't busy studying. He found warmth in making new friends at his veterinary school and, later, he found it in the animals he met at the vet clinic where he did his residency. It wasn't comparable to Kourai’s warmth, because Sachirou knew no one could burn as bright as him, but it was enough for Sachirou. It was enough to distract him, and it was enough to prove that he made the right decision.

Sometimes Sachirou got the urge to contact Kourai; to check up on him. To see where he stood with him, and to act like he hadn’t been keeping up with his career through Fukurou for years. But, when Sachirou found himself staring down at his phone screen at the number he could never bring himself to delete, he remembered the burn and he wasn’t sure if he could put himself through that again.

At least, until one winter day on a visit home, when he found himself thrust into Kourai’s orbit all over again. 

Sachirou was stepping off his train at the station, weary from travel and his tired eyes focused on the signs telling him where to go, when he heard his name spoken in a familiar, yet uncharacteristically small, voice. Suddenly awake, he froze up, thinking about how the last time he’d heard that voice, he’d also had his back turned, ready to walk away and never look back.

“Sachirou?” It was unmistakably Kourai, but the way he uttered the name was almost enough to break Sachirou’s heart all over again.

He considered leaving, pretending that he hadn’t heard anything, but Sachirou knew he couldn’t do that to Kourai twice, so he slowly turned around to look at him. 

A man with short-cropped white hair and big, dinner plate eyes that betrayed all of his emotions (anxiety, confusion, and also, somehow, resolve) was looking back at him. He wasn’t the boy Sachirou turned his back on all those years ago; he wasn’t the athlete that he watched sometimes on TV, either. He wasn’t a star or a supergiant, but a man — almost a stranger — who had matured and grown, even in his absence. He was just a man, but he could destroy Sachirou with a single word. Sachirou thought maybe he wouldn’t mind that so much after all.

“Sachirou,” Kourai said again, this time a little louder and more sure of himself. Sachirou could sense relief in Kourai’s voice, and he felt the tension in his own shoulders loosen as a result.

“Kourai-kun,” Sachirou breathed, the train he’d just disembarked finally taking off for its next destination, whipping his hair around his face in its wake. In the wind, he couldn’t hear what Kourai said next but before he knew it, Kourai grabbed his hand and was leading him out of the station, into the street. 

Nagano winters have always been cold, but with Kourai there again, after so many years, Sachirou was the warmest and most comfortable he’d been in a long time, as if the sun was beating straight down on him instead of hiding behind thick clouds and jagged mountains. Kourai’s rough hand remained wrapped tightly around Sachirou’s wrist while he led them past the taxis waiting outside onto a sidewalk lined with tourists and gift shops, as if he was worried Sachirou would run away if he let his grip slip. Sachirou didn’t want to run away, though. Not this time. 

As Kourai weaved through the crowds, almost jogging ahead of Sachirou, he stared straight ahead, saying something about taking Sachirou somewhere where they could talk and catch up. Sachirou would’ve had trouble keeping up with him if he hadn’t been the brightest thing out on the street in the dreary winter afternoon — he was out of practice when it came to dealing with Kourai, after all.

Kourai slowed down abruptly and looked over at him, a wide smile on his face that made Sachirou’s breath catch in his throat with a squeak. “I’ve missed you a lot, Sachirou. Fukurou nii-san tells me how you’re doing sometimes, but it’s not the same as hearing it directly from you.”

Sachirou’s head reeled. Kourai had been asking after him, the same way he’d always been asking after Kourai. He had always assumed that, by leaving Kourai behind, he’d saved himself the heartache of rejection and a painful end to their friendship, but Kourai’s behavior at that moment made him think otherwise. Had he made a mistake all those years ago? Was there something else in Kourai’s kind smile and firm grip that Sachirou had missed last time?

“Anyway,” Kourai continued, charging ahead and glancing at the passing shops to find a good place to stop. “I’m really happy that I ran into you, because I just got some really good news and I want  _ you _ to be the first person I tell.”

Kourai stopped them outside a French-style cafe and began reading the menu plastered in the window as Sachirou processed his words.

“Kourai-kun, why me?” He managed, finally. “After everything, after all these years, why do you want to tell me?”

Kourai looked up at him with questioning eyes, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because all of it — all my success — it’s thanks to you. And I want to share it with you.”

Sachirou stared at him, baffled, for a few moments longer. It was like Kourai had completely forgotten what happened the last time they’d seen each other, whereas Sachirou never stopped thinking about it. He wasn’t sure what that meant for the two of them, but somewhere within him, Kourai lit another flame. One of hope and reconciliation. 

“I think I should be the one thanking you,” Sachirou replied as Kourai began to open the cafe door.

“Thank me  _ after _ you watch me at the Olympics, Sachirou!” Kourai exclaimed, too loudly for the peaceful cafe, attracting attention from patrons and servers. Sachirou bowed his head slightly in apology. “I’ll accept it when I know you’ve watched me on the world stage.” 

He smiled again, and he was all Sachirou could see. Sachirou smiled back, even though his eyes stung and his wrist burned where it came into contact with Kourai’s skin. His heart swelled with admiration and pride. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t letting him go again.

“Of course, Kourai-kun. I’ve always been watching you. I don’t plan on changing that any time soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> alternate ending: sachirou wakes up in bed in a sweat. he looks over to find kourai next to him. he is sleeping soundly in his national team jersey, after winning a gold medal at the olympics. he wanted to sleep in the gold medal, too, but sachirou wouldn't let him because he didn't want him to choke in his sleep. this was all just a dream.
> 
> thanks kdad, bri, and evi for beta reading! come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vethirugami).


End file.
